


Crimson, Carmine, Burgundy, Rouge

by kiebs



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Short & Sweet, Slow To Update, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiebs/pseuds/kiebs
Summary: Red is the color of passion.Pink is the color of love.Put them together and you get a collection of stories focusing on our favorite redheaded leaders in love.
Relationships: Brick/Blossom Utonium
Comments: 26
Kudos: 126





	1. Favorite Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carriedreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carriedreamer/gifts), [Renaerys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaerys/gifts).



> Did I start yet another collection of short stories because I have no self control? Yes.  
> Do I also need a fluffy break from Storm? Also yes.  
> So here is Crimson, Carmine, Burgundy, Rouge! A collection where I can get my reds fix out while I write Storm  
> (You can blame Carriedreamer and Renaerys for this.)

_"…pink can be pretty and powerful, feminine and feminist." -- Valerie Steele, editor of Pink: The History of a Punk, Pretty, Powerful Color, in CNN article "The color pink: a cultural history"_

* * *

Pink was a complicated color.

To most, it was a girlish color, one that every delivery room swaddled every baby girl in. It was soft and gentle, the epitome of feminine grace. It was a delicate color, the perfect hue for the demure heroines of a thousand children's books or the love interest of a hundred movies.

On the other hand, when its hue darkened to more magenta or fuchsia, it was a garish color. An in your face color. A color reserved for the boldest of people, for the people who wanted attention and knew how to get it. It became a dangerous color, the color of temptation and frivolity, of mistresses of the night.

Every girl had an opinion on pink. Society demanded it, after all, because pink was _for girls_. Even though pink was just a pale version of red. Red, which society deemed masculine, strong, and powerful. As such, since pink was just a lighter form of red, it had originally been for _boys_.

No one would believe you, however, if you told them that. So pink was for girls. Red was for boys. It was as simple as that.

And so, every girl who wasn't a tomboy had to like pink.

Blossom would admit that yes, she did like pink. She was, after all, _pink_. Her energy, her power, was pink, glittering sparks of rose and amaranth that lit up her skin. Pink lightning arced over her arms when angry, pink fire alighting her fists in battle, pink eyebeams when she was furious. So, yes, Blossom did like pink.

She resented anyone who asked if it was her favorite color.

Just because Blossom was born in a pink dress, just because her eyes were pink, just because pink leaked from her pores when angry, did not mean that pink was her favorite of the light spectrum. Did she have the odd peculiarity of being a redhead and looking good in pink? Yes. Did she had a lot of pink clothes? Also yes. That meant nothing.

She looked _good_ in pink. She also looked good in green and blue. It had taken her sisters and her years to get over their color-coding. Blossom didn't always have to wear pink. Bubbles didn't always have to wear blue (and she did rock pink very well, the blessing of blonde hair and blue eyes). Buttercup didn't always have to wear green (and she tended towards neutral colors anyway, using bold colors as an accent to her mostly black ensemble).

Blossom also had a lot of purple clothes, but no one ever assumed that was her favorite color. No, they saw her eyes and her powers and assumed.

_"Blossom is pink so that's her favorite color."_

Ridiculous.

Pink wasn’t the only color Blossom was born with.

* * *

With deft fingers, Blossom tied her ribbon around her hair and tilted her head back and forth. Her ponytail swished with her movement, held primly in place just how she liked it. She smiled at her mirror and stood up to join her sisters and father downstairs.

She snatched her new jacket as she left with a secretive smile on her face, which she let soften once she was in the kitchen. She couldn't be too obvious about her choice behind this particular jacket, even if both of her sisters were already aware. They had helped her pick it, after all.

Buttercup was too busy shoveling her breakfast into her mouth when she joined them, but Bubbles cooed excitedly at her appearance. The secretive smile bloomed into a grin.

"Oh! You're wearing the new jacket!" she gushed and clapped her hands. "It makes you look _so cool_!"

"You do look lovely, honey," the Professor agreed.

"Huh. You do look cool," Buttercup remarked with a tilt of her head.

Blossom rolled her eyes before putting on a saccharine smile and poking her middle sister's cheek. Buttercup immediately swatted her hand away.

"It's because I listened to my _baby sister_ ," she teased, receiving a wrinkled nose.

"Well, _duh_ ," Buttercup scoffed. "I am the Queen of Cool." She pointed her spoon at her. "All the polls say so."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Blossom muttered, taking her seat and pouring herself a bowl of cereal as well. "Am I really that boring? I thought people liked leaders."

"They do!" Bubbles insisted with an apologetic smile. "But, well, you are kinda…mom-ish."

Buttercup snickered.

Blossom just muttered under her breath and dug into her cereal. How was trying to watch out for her sisters "mom-ish"? She could control a room with a single glance! She had controlled a room with a single glance, albeit a room full of scared civilians, but she had! Mom-ish, pah!

"Oh, but you are more popular with little girls than boys!"

Her hold tightened on her spoon.

_Let her guess…_

"Because you're pink!"

_Of course_.

Blossom was the pink one and girls _loved_ pink. Even if she was mom-ish, she was pink so she was liked. Even though Bubbles was more girly than she was, Blossom immediately had more girl fans because what boy liked _pink_?

It was...ridiculous.

Just...ridiculous...

* * *

"I love it," Robin gushed as soon as she walked into class that morning. Blossom preened at the attention from her best friend and let her run her hands over her arms to feel the material of her jacket. "Oh, you look _badass_."

"You can thank Buttercup for that," Blossom laughed. "I was torn. I couldn't decide between this one or—"

A whistle distracted them and then Mike was at Robin's side. He nodded his head appreciatively at her and grinned.

"Subtle," he teased and Robin's elbow met his stomach.

"Oh, hush!" She snickered nonetheless and Blossom couldn't blame her.

She wasn't being subtle at all with this jacket, but apparently subtle gestures didn't cut it. Accessories colored differently than her outfit, than _her color_ , didn’t draw attention so she had to be bold.

Her gaze swept over the class then, looking for one person in particular, and frowned when she came up empty. When she turned back to her friends, Mike shrugged.

"I haven't seen him this morning," he reported.

"Wasn't at his locker," Robin added before patting Blossom's shoulder. "You know he runs late sometimes. Especially if his brothers don't wake up on time."

Blossom blew out a breath and nodded. She did know, but that didn't mean she wasn't getting antsy. She had been hinting for years and yet nothing had come from it, which was why she wasn't beating around the bush anymore. For someone so smart, he could be so dumb.

Their teacher arrived then and still no sign of the person she was looking for. Blossom worried her lip, but took her seat all the same. He didn't skip anymore, not unless they needed him and his brothers for a particularly difficult monster. Then again, he also wasn't always the most punctual so she shouldn't be too worried.

Still

She wanted him to _see_ , dang it.

Everyone began taking their seats as their teacher cleared her throat.

"All right, every—"

A streak of red burst through the door and zipped to the seat just behind Blossom, wind buffeting the classroom in his wake. She, Robin, and just about every other girl in the class shrieked at the whirlwind whipping their hair in its brief mayhem.

Blossom's ponytail flopped over her head, the long strands falling around her face once it died down. She blew it out of her face with an irritated huff. Grumbling softly, she ran her fingers through her hair and shot a leer over her shoulder.

Mike's own hair looked wild, but he shared a fist bump with the boy behind her all the same. Unlike the rest of them, he was completely unruffled.

"Mr. Jojo—!"

The bell rang shrilly, interrupting their teacher.

"I was here before the bell," Brick answered serenely.

Their teacher grumbled something so low that only she and he had caught it. A smug grin pulled up his lips and Blossom almost smiled in return. Instead, she rolled her eyes and faced their poor teacher.

She didn't miss the curious look he gave her before she turned back around, however.

Good.

* * *

In complete contrast to pink, which was a variant of it to begin with, red was a rather simple color. It was a strong color, its vibrancy one of its defining attributes. One could not easily ignore red, unless it was mellowed with other shades, but it lost what made it red with that mellowing. Soften red and you got pink, or peach, depending on the hue. Add blue to cool it and you received purple. Certainly, there were plenty of shades of red; carmine, crimson, burgundy, rouge, to name a few; but those shades did not hide the fact that they were indisputably red.

Red also did not have the same stigma as pink.

Men could wear red without being called "revolutionary" at best or a "pansy" at worst. They didn't have to build themselves up to wear red or try to tear themselves away from the color and its connotations. They could wear the color and just be.

Red was also a passionate color: love, anger, war, lust. Any emotion triggered by some kind of adrenal reaction and it was red. Excitement, danger, fighting, blood.

In the scheme of things, such response made sense. Red was a primary color, considered the first of the three primary colors, so of course, one would connect it to the primal instincts. Red was said to raise metabolism and respiration, two important parts of simple survival. Red was connected to love and lust, the basis of reproduction. Blood was red and wasn’t that one of the most important building blocks of the body.

Red did not have to fight for its status, did not have to prove itself that it was strong.

Unlike pink.

However, Blossom had long since proven the strength of pink, hadn't she? While not her favorite color, she had wielded pink in all its ferocious serenity, all its demure rage, and she had beaten countless villains with it.

She had beaten _red_ with it.

Pink was complicated, but just as strong.

However, it wasn't Blossom's favorite color.

After all, her dress may have been pink, as were her eyes, but her bow was _red_.

Pink wasn't the only color she was born with.

* * *

It took three classes for Brick to finally comment on her outfit. It wasn't as if they had had two classes together already, both of which he sat behind her for, but for some reason, it had taken him this long to say anything.

He wasn't shy. He wasn't the type to beat around the bush. Certainly, sometimes he lacked _tact_ , but _three_ whole periods?

Was it that strange?

She would have to wear the burgundy skirt tomorrow.

Brick leaned against the locker next to hers. He had shoved his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, probably trying for nonchalance, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze.

She hummed her question as she traded her books.

"So...haven't seen that jacket before," he remarked.

Blossom turned to him with a raised eyebrow. At the sight of his red ears, a sly grin took over.

She turned back to her locker.

"Oh, I got it over the weekend," she answered blithely. "The Girls and I had some extra allowance and Bubbles saw a sale and that was that. It's nice, isn't it? Though the leather is a little stiff. I have to break it in."

"Yeah. Nice," he murmured. He cleared his throat. "But, uh…the color…"

Blossom looked down at the sleeve in feigned curiosity. It was a rather _bold_ color, yes, but it was her favorite shade. Plus she looked amazing in it. Both her sisters agreed that the striking color worked surprisingly well with the rest of her coloring.

She shot him an innocent smile.

"Oh, well, Bubbles said this one looked _the_ best and Buttercup agreed, so I got this over the other two options," she explained. She put her last book into her bag before closing her locker. "Buttercup claimed the black one made me look like a 'wannabe badass' and the pink one was _too_ pastel. So, this was the winner."

He really was focused on her, wasn't he? Even with the additional inch or two of the boots she was wearing, he still towered over her. Huh. She had never really noticed how much taller he was compared to her. Flying would do that, she supposed.

Oh. He was…leaning closer. She kept her smile as innocent as possible while she tried to calm the increase in her heartrate. Maybe he was too distracted to notice?

His cheeks began to redden. Oh. That was _his_ heartbeat rising, wasn’t it? It was hard not to grin at that.

"You look good in red, Pinky," he muttered.

His voice sounded husky. A thrill similar to their games of Cat and Mouse shot down her spine.

Her smile felt predatory.

His eyes dropped to it before flickering back up to her own eyes.

"Why thank you, Brick." She took a step towards him. He visibly stiffened. "Red _is_ my favorite color."

A swallow. He cleared his throat again.

"You...You don't say..."

"Mmhm," she hummed and very, very carefully pushed him back. "We have class, tiger. Come on."

She let her fingers trail over his chest and shoulder as she walked by him. Her grin was triumphant when his footsteps hurried after her.

Oh, yes.

Pink might be a complicated color, but it was powerful at the same time it was demure. Feminine and fierce, gentle and bold. With all its duality, pink was strong.

Pink was just as strong as _red_.

Or, maybe, in this case, it was _stronger._

Blossom did look particularly good in red.


	2. Burgundy Skirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Favorite Color; Brick was still reeling from the red leather jacket. She just _had_ to wear the burgundy skirt, didn't she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Carriedreamer had asked so nicely, I wrote a continuation to Favorite Color with Brick reacting to Blossom in a burgundy skirt. Please enjoy!

_"Red_ is _my favorite color."_

Two days.

He had spent two days reeling from seeing Blossom fucking Utonium in a _red_ _leather jacket_. Two days where he stared at her for way longer than he should because…

_Red_

_Leather_

_Jacket_

Blossom Utonium, Commander and Leader of the fucking Powerpuff Girls, did _not_ wear _leather_. She didn't wear _red_ either, or, well, no, she _did_ , but he had just…tried not to make it a big deal. A red T-shirt didn't mean anything, neither did red shoes, and her bow had always been red so those were just normal things.

A red leather jacket wasn't _normal_. Not for her.

And now he was noticing all the red she _did_ wear.

Her watch had a red band. She had little red studs she wore sometimes. A red fucking _belt_ had wrapped around her waist that day and oh God had he just wanted…

No. Bad Brick. Baaad Brick. You don't think about your damn counterpart that way.

At least she had gone back to normal these last couple of days, wearing her long skirts or jeans and colors that weren't _his_. Colors that weren't her _favorite_.

Brick swallowed nervously, remembering the low tone her voice had and the way her eyes had looked…hungry. Like the cat who was hunting her prey and how ironic was that.

_He was usually the Cat._

Still, dressed normally or not, the image of her in that red jacket was burned into his mind and he wasn't going to get it out for a long time. He really didn't want to, admittedly, and a part of him really wished she would wear it again. It was getting colder so she would need a jacket. That made sense…right?

And if, maybe, her wearing that jacket meant she gave him more of those little sly grins, more of her fingers trailing over his chest, who was he to complain? Brick certainly wouldn't.

"Morning, Brick!" Robin chirped as she spun the dial on her locker. His grunted his own greeting. "Aren't we a ray of sunshine? Well, I know the _perfect_ wake-me-up for you."

"I doubt you have a double espresso in your bag," Brick remarked. He closed his own locker and leaned against it so that he was facing the chipper brunette. "Or do you? I've seen you pull crazier shit from it."

Robin stuck her tongue out at him. "For that, I'm gonna wait until we get to class."

He rolled his eyes.

"I am beside myself with grief."

"Oh, har-har-har, Mister Grumpy." She slammed her locker closed. Putting her hands on her hips, she raised her eyebrows at him. "C'mon, let's go."

She prattled away on their way to English, talking about some show or something, into which she and Bubbles had gotten her sisters. He really wasn't paying attention, but he nodded in all the right places so Robin hadn't called him out on it. Yet.

He was preparing himself for whatever Blossom would be wearing, anyway. Would the red jacket make a reappearance? Or would she continue her normal mundane clothes? A very large part of him hoped for the former, but an equally large part chastised himself for that.

Getting excited over what a girl, let alone a _Powerpuff Girl_ , was wearing was ridiculous and, admittedly, a little creepy. The Girls had enough magazines and tabloids chasing after them ever since they hit high school, criticizing their uniforms and casual wear like the vultures they were. Boomer constantly complained about the paparazzi that had followed him and Bubbles when the two had begun dating the year previous. A well-timed glowing glare had stopped that real fast, as did the chilling smile from one Professor Utonium.

(Brick remembered that containment ray, oh yes he did. He wasn't dumb. He knew the Professor was _not_ to be messed with.)

He wasn't going to add himself to the scores of teenagers ogling the Girls. Even if he couldn't get that sly grin out of his mind or her teasingly low voice or her fingers trailing over him. Brick had _standards_. He wasn't a slobbering dog, for Hell's sake.

And then he followed Robin into their AP English class and stopped dead.

"Oh, fuck me," he groaned under his breath.

Robin skipped ahead of him, waving to the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

"Morning, Blossom!" she chirped and then stood on her toes to accept the kiss from Mike, which Brick only vaguely registered.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Blossom, though. He wasn’t even sure if Mike had greeted him or seen him. All he saw was Blossom.

Blossom who was wearing something he wasn't sure was really appropriate for school. Well, it was inappropriate in the sense that it was much more professional and stylish than a high school really deserved. He was sure he had seen her wear something similar for press conferences or times when they needed to be seen in something other than their uniforms. However, he was having trouble remembering if she had ever worn a _skirt_ during those times.

He vaguely categorized the blush pink blouse she was wearing, but his eyes wouldn’t stay up above her waist for long. In any other frame of mind, he would deny that, but Brick was certain his common sense had shot out the window with an excited scream. 

A _pencil skirt_. A fucking _pencil skirt_ in a _high school_. A pencil skirt in dark burgundy that hugged her hips and legs. The sight made him want to run his hands down them. Sure, it was definitely school appropriate in that it ended at her knees in a conservative way, but also it showed off _those curves_.

He was realizing he had never actually looked at Blossom in that way. She was just…Blossom. The only one who could keep up with him, who could challenge him, who made his chest all funny and hot and tight, but she was still Blossom. Leader of the Powerpuff Girls, _his_ counterpart, Blossom.

She was more gorgeous that he had ever realized.

Brick sucked in a breath.

"Oh, _please_ fuck me," he hissed as lowly as inhumanly possible.

He was screwed.

"Hey, Brick! What are you doing, standing by the door?"

His eyes snapped to Mike, who was grinning way too cheekily at him. He scowled in response, but before he could make his way over to his seat, Blossom turned.

Something in his chest leaped and his throat felt dry and itchy. He tried swallowing, but his mouth was too dry. He ended up coughing. His cheeks felt hot.

Was he sweating? He felt like he was sweating. Oh, God, his hands were clammy, too. His hands were _never_ clammy, some weird side effect of his pyrokinesis, but suddenly Blossom was looking at him and he couldn't move and he was sweaty and his palms were clammy.

Her eyes sparkled. That sly smile curved up her pretty, full lips and Brick almost whined.

His eyes flickered down to her dark red skirt. Her smile turned into a grin and she rested one hand on her hip.

He tightened his hold on his bag.

He was _so_ screwed _._


End file.
